e, há quarenta anos, quando os pink floyd tinham piada e ainda nos surpreendiam...

as i reach for a peach 


slide a rind down behind 


the sofa in san tropez

breakin' a stick with a brick on the sand

ridin' a wave in the wake of an old sedan



sleepin' alone in the drone of the darkness, 


scratched by the sand that fell from my love, 


deep in my dreams and i still hear her callin' 


"if you're alone, 
i'll come home." 



backward and homebound,

the pigeon, the dove,

gone with the wind and the rain on an airplane

owning a home with no silver spoon,

i'm drinking champagne like a good tycoon


sooner than wait for a break in the weather,

i'll gather my far-flung thoughts together

speeding away on the wind to a new day

and if you're alone i'll come home. 


and i pause for a while

by a country style

and listen to the things they say

diggin' for gold in a hole in my hand

open a book take a look at the way things stand

and you're leading me down to the place by the sea


i hear your soft voice calling to me

making a date for later by phone

and if you're alone i'll come home.